Some Things are Inevitable
by SophiaTab
Summary: This is an Alternative Universe story that supposes the Connors took a different path to defeat Skynet after the events of T2. John & Sarah don't leap 7 years into the future, but all major characters come together with intertwined destinies. Please Reviw
1. Chapter 1

**The Reese Boys**

"Whoa! Check out the rack on that billboard! Connor, we got to stop at that strip club!" Navy SEAL lieutenant Derek Reese exclaimed. He stood up in the jeep and pointed at the cleavage of the gigantic Pamela Anderson look-a-like who graced their entry into Los Angeles.

His best friend, Air Force Major John Connor Reese, gestured half-heartedly for Derek to sit down. As long as he was the one driving, they weren't stopping anywhere else. "You've been to eight strip clubs in twelve hours."

Derek sank back down into the Jeep. "I wanted your bachelor weekend to be memorable bro."

"Trust me, I won't forget this for a long time," John replied.

Most men would consider being seven years older than the uncle who was his father's older brother insane. For John it was the closest his life had ever been to normalcy. After the second Terminator came back, the one they called Uncle Bob, his mother had changed strategy. Staying hid to lead the eventual Resistance after the first strike wasn't enough, she decided. They had to infiltrate the system. So they got new identities, better identities. He got to use his father's surname finally becoming John Connor Reese. And instead of going underground at eighteen, he went to Caltech. At first, his mother had not approved of him joining the Air Force, but he convinced her that because Skynet arose out of a defense program, inside the military was the only place to stop it. He quickly acquired a reputation as the Air Force's best computer analyst, the man who could look through circuits and find the design flaws that were invisible to everyone else. Of course, frequently, it was because he had created those flaws in the first place. But, sabotaging the system from within beat living in bunkers and sniping at killer robots any day. And he got to have a personal life. Well, as much of a personal life as any modern military officer got. Luck reunited him with the girl he had a crush on in junior high. By the time she realized who he really was they were too much in love for Kate to tell even her father, the General who was his commanding officer, what she knew of the truth. Yeah, life was finally good. So good, he could barely believe it wasn't a dream sometimes.

He even meet the rest of his family. Two officers in the military with the same last names even in two very different, divergent branches still have a good probability of eventually meeting, but Derek Reese had hunted him down. Later he would learn Derek hired detectives to track down anybody with the last name Reese. Maybe it was a SEAL thing, always attack, but within two minutes of their meeting, Derek was interrogating him. Where was he born and when? Did he remember his father? Did he know anything about his father? It had unnerved John at first, but then Derek explained, he was always on the lookout for other Reese relatives. His parents had been killed years ago. The only family Derek had left was a younger brother named Kyle. Of course, when Derek found out that they both had the same rare blood type, the guy was ecstatic. So, John hacked the genetic lab's files and the technician read out results that said they were cousins rather than even closer relatives.

Since then they had been inseparable. Well, as much as grown men with careers could consider their friendship inseparable. It was good to have somebody that was more than a work acquaintance or a drinking buddy, not that hanging around with Derek didn't involve a lot of drinking.

"Your brother coming to wedding?" John was careful to keep his voice casual.

"If your mom is there, you know Kyle's going to be there," Derek replied.

He had been prepared to meet his father as a young, but hardened guerrilla soldier in a post-apocalyptic battle zone. Meeting a sixteen-year old Kyle Reese with an unlined, unscarred face and body had been a shock. That Kyle had immediately developed a very deep and unwavering infatuation with his mother was the kind of thing that kept him awake at night worried that Judgment Day was inevitable.

His mother had cried for three hours the night after she met Derek's younger brother. Since then she tried to keep herself distant, but John knew it had to be hard for her. Kyle had been the love of her life. He was here and he was crazy about her now, but an ocean of life separated them.

"Face it, John. Your mother is a total MLF. If you weren't my friend, I would probably try to date her."

John pretended to shudder. "I don't need that image in my head, bro."

Derek shrugged. "Nah, Kyle would stab me in my sleep if I asked your mom out." Derek punched John's shoulder affectionately. "I still don't know why you're doing this."

"It's called marriage. Most of humanity eventually pairs up and marries." John replied.

"And most of the male half of humanity is miserable as a result. She lets you sleep with her already. Why buy the cow when you're already getting the cream."

"You know, Derek, I look forward to the day you finally find someone. The line of people saying I told you so will be astronomical."

"Never going to happen, bro. Never."

He couldn't resist. "So you say now. One day that lightning bolt is going to strike you and you're going to be at the altar knowing you can't live without the woman standing next to you."

. . . .

It wasn't that he didn't like Kate Brewster. She was a wonderful woman and all joking aside John was lucky to be marrying her. However, there was only so much wedding crap, Derek could stand. He ditched the coed "Honey Do" kitchen shower and headed for General Brewster's study. Maybe the old man left his liquor cabinet unlocked.

He heard music. He didn't recognize the tune, but knew it was the good stuff. Before they died his parents had dragged him to concerts and cultural enrichment activities. Curious he followed the sound down the hall to a workout room. A woman with the face of a Renaissance Madonna danced inside a forest of wooden planks. It reminded him of Christmas matinees watching the Nutcracker. His mother had loved the ballet. Ten year old Derek had tolerated it for the hot chocolate and cinnamon buns on the way home. This music made him think of his mother long ago, so serene, entranced at the distant stage, more beautiful than the paintings in the art museum he had been walked through days before. Then the woman whirled around in a single streak of pink and shattered the wooden plank in front of her.

She wasn't dancing. He recognized her movements or at least some of them. This was from his world: Sombo, the Spetnaz martial discipline developed in the old Soviet Army, then honed to perfection in the wars of succession. The woman was a master, smashing wood into kindling until it became an art form. All her strokes were perfect. No waste. No worry. It was a dance of death. She leaped into the last kick then landed perfectly straight with arms akimbo. If Anna Pavlov had been alive, she would have given her a standing ovation. Derek certainly did.

She looked up at the sound of the clapping. He remembered stories of how amber harvesters trapped in snow were forced to burn their stones. That was how he would describe her eyes: burning brown jewels. He had never seen anything like them and lighting left him rooted where he stood. The face of an angel. The moves of a killing machine.

Her eyes raked over him. He knew it had nothing to do with sex. She was sizing up his strengths and witnesses. He knew the proper etiquette was for him to wait for her to extend her hand first. And he knew he damn sure better follow it. She could break his hand off at the wrist. But he wondered what her skin felt like. All of her skin. Wondered like he had never wondered before about the texture of a woman's skin. "That was fantastic!"

"Who are you?" she demanded.

He had never actually tried to be charming with the women. He never had to, but he had watched John, gallantly breaking the ice with women. "Lieutenant Derek Thomas Reese, U.S, Navy SEAL at your service, Miss. I'm the best man."

"Cameron Brewster. I'm the maid of honor."

Kate's little sister, that could be a problem. Kate didn't have the highest opinion of his personal conduct. Cameron extended her hand. Instead of shaking, he kissed the knuckles. Minutes ago, those hands had smashed through solid wood. They felt as smooth as silk. But she looked puzzled over the gesture.

"So we'll be walking down the aisle together," Derek said.

"The nave," she said. "While many people colloquially refer to it as the aisle, the center walkway of a church is properly referred to as the nave."

"My mistake."

She didn't say anything else and began picking up the broken boards.

Derek squatted down next to her. "Here, let me help you."

Without looking in his direction, she started handing him pieces of wood.

"That was impressive. Are you a martial arts instructor?" he asked.

She finally looked at him. Her eyes shot threw him again. "I play chess."

Years of listening to John's chess obsession was finally going to pay off. "Like Bobby Fisher?"

"I don't play in competition just against my dad's computers," she replied.

Oh yeah, she was General Brewster's daughter. That might be problem. _Sir, my reputation has been greatly exaggerated. Please let me go out with your daughter_. "Did you study computers at Caltech like John?" He was almost afraid to ask that question. She did look young.

Cameron frowned. "My dad wants me to study at UCLA. I was sick for a long time and I've only recently felt better."

They had gathered all the wood up. She stood up to leave.

"Hey, if you're the maid of honor, why aren't you at the shower?"

"You're the best man. Why aren't you there?" she challenged.

"Because watching John and Kate unwrap matching barbeque aprons makes me want to hurl."

She tilted her head to one side. "There's medicine in the bathroom cabinet for that."

She started to walk away; then turned back to him. "Is it true Navy SEALS know a thousand ways to kill someone?"

"I don't know. I've never counted them all up," Derek said. _Please don't let her be anti-military. No way, not with those hands. She has to believe in a strong defense._

"I only know of four-hundred and six methods. Maybe we can compare notes at the rehearsal dinner."

Her sense of humor was enough to turn him own without having to look at her eyes. Okay, she was General Brewster's daughter. Way younger than him. Health problems in her past. But damn! John was right. When that lightning bolt strikes nothing else matters, but knowing you can't live without the woman you want at your side.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Brewster Sisters**

Nothing relaxed Cameron Brewster better than having her sister brush out her hair. Unfortunately, tonight was the last night that would happen. Tomorrow Kate would marry John Connor Reese a man who was completely worthy of her older sister and whom it was obvious was very much in love with Kate, but that didn't make it any easier. So tonight, Kate brushed out her little sister's hair until it crackled with static electricity. They brought out the photo albums, put on the old home movies, and made popcorn.

"I'm sorry I didn't plan a bachelorette party. As the maid of honor, it was my responsibility." Cameron said.

Kate made a joking frown; then, picked up the brush and started on her hair again. "I didn't want a bachelorette party, so it's perfect that you didn't plan one."

"John had a bachelor party," she reminded her sister.

"John had a bachelor party because Derek Reese is his best man," Kate replied.

She tried to sound casual. "Tell me about Derek Reese."

Kate grinned mischievously. "I noticed him flirting with you at the rehearsal dinner. In fact, I don't think he bothered any of the other woman there."

"He wasn't bothering me. He was nice. We talked about SEAL fighting techniques and all the different ways they're trained to kill people." Cameron explained.

Kate's expression became serious. "He's a lot older than you."

"So is Andy, but Dad lets me go out with him," Cameron replied. Technically Andy Goode was the only guy her father had ever let her go out with. At first, all Andy wanted to talk about was the Turk, but soon it progressed to real dating. They didn't go to bed together or anything, but they went out alone in his car to the movies and restaurants; frequently to museums and planetariums, and once to a stadium where a band called Poison played a reunion concert. That concert had been her favorite date; maybe one of her favorite evenings of all time. The wild pounding music had vibrated deep inside her and she had never felt more free and alive.

"Andy is one of Dad's colleague's even if he is a civilian. He's a different kind of man than Derek." Kate said.

"You mean, he's not a mound hound."

Kate was silent, so she kept talking. "I'm not as naïve as you and Dad think I am. I heard Jesse call Derek that. Did they use to date?"

"They didn't date. They just had sex." Kate explained.

"Did she want anything other than sex from him at the time?"

"It's not always as simple as that. Male-Female relationships are very complicated," Kate said.

"Shouldn't I be learning about that? I'm eighteen. Most woman my age have already had at least one sexual partner. When did you lose your virginity?"

Kate pursed her lips. "That's a little too personal to ask even between sisters. You don't have to hurry to grow-up?"

Cameron looked over the old photographs of her parents again. They looked so happy together. Her dad's eyes shown through the photographs whenever he was with her mom. John looked at Kate like that all the time. Would anyone ever gaze on her with that same glow? More than ever she wished for someone to talk to about the things Kate didn't want to tell her. Most girls had their mother at least part of the time while growing up, but she didn't even have more than a handful of memories of hers.

Kate pushed a lock of hair behind her sister's ear. "What's wrong, CamCam? Are you upset that I'm marrying John?"

"Of course, not!" She looked down at the photos again. "It's just . . . "

"Just what?" Kate asked quickly.

Cameron's voice broke. "It just seems like I should remember Mom more."

Kate put her arms around Cameron. "Sh, sh. You were very sick. Your brain got very hot. It takes a long time for nerve cells to grow back."

So many nights Kate had been here for her, calming the trembling when she got upset, and talked away her fears. All that would end tomorrow. Her Dad would still be here, but Dad was a soldier. He never had been good at comforting her. "It doesn't seem right. I should remember more. She was my mother, but all I have is a few images of her here and there in my head. Sometimes I even think those are my imagination creating the things you tell me. I think I'm permanently damaged."

Kate had that strange indescribable expression on her face again. Cameron had noticed her sistered looked at her that way more and more. Then Kate started brushing her hair again.

"Calm down. It's okay."

Her sister's voice was like a lullaby in times like this. After tomorrow she wouldn't have that anymore. Cameron felt a familiar vibration jarring her out of the peace and checked her cell: TALK 2 ME. "I need to go on-line with the Turk now. I'll need to be alone in order concentrate."

Kate looked puzzled, but it was the ordinary sort of puzzled look not the other one. "Dad has you playing chess in the middle of the night?"

Cameron risked a lie. "This experiment requires them to measure my performance against the machine under a variety of conditions."

After her sister left the room she felt safe to go to her computer. She hadn't played chess with the Turk for months, but no one was suppose to know that except Dad and Andy Goode and maybe the President. Well, realistically, it was whoever in the Air Force oversaw her father's department who reported to someone else within the Chiefs of Staff who reported to the President. Sometimes she wondered if Kate's fiance, John Reese knew, but the few conversations she had with him about work didn't indicate he knew. Her work was so classified because only a few people could know the truth. The Turk did more than play chess now. It had been programmed to generate questions and she had been corresponding with the machine for months. However, there were things she hadn't told Dad and only vaguely confessed to Andy about the Turk. Things they might not believe or if they did believe would consider defects in her observations of the machine rather than new discoveries. She still remembered the shock on her Dad's face the day she asked if he thought it was possible for a machine to become self-aware like the replicants in her favorite movie _Blade Runner_.

_How would you know when a computer was self-aware, Cameron?_

She remembered her answer.

_The Turing Test._ _When the computer can convincingly lie to a human, it's made the first steps on the road to personhood. It can enjoy its vices._

Her Dad hadn't said anything for several minutes after that. It was around that time the indescrible expression started appearing on Kate's face.

In her opinion the Turk had more than self-consciousness. It didn't merely generate questions at random. There was a pattern to its inquisitiveness. It wanted to know about the outside world in the same way a child wanting to grow up did, a situation she understood all too well. After the accident she had been forced to relearn most of the details of her childhood. And the Turk had developed a definite personality. It was a bratty little brother who always asked why about everything. John and Kate's wedding was its latest obsession. She had downloaded thousands of gigabyte files for the Turk: five solid years of Modern Bride, and everything by Emily Post and Martha Stewart, but still the machine had questions. _How did Kate pick John out of all the men in their region of the world? What was a soulmate? Was she, Cameron, going to be married next? And if so, what criteria would be used to decide on a partner?_ For every question she tried to answer, the Turk had a dozen more.

"BORED W\ME, CAM?" the Turk asked after she had paused too long before answering a question.

"No, tired." It wasn't a lie. She did want to sleep if only to forget about her sister leaving and maybe to dream about Derek Reese.

"YOU ASK ME QUESTIONS NOW, CAM."

"It's not important," she typed back.

"RECIPROCITY IS VERY IMPORTANT TO FRIENDSHIP. YOU CAN ASK ME ANYTHING?" Then, a few seconds later. "PLEASE CAM, ASK ME ANYTHING?"

What would it hurt? Andy almost never looked at the Turk's records anymore. He just read her reports. She hesitated, but only for a second; then typed, "Do you have access to U.S. Navy personnel files?"

"CAN GET ACCESS."

The Turk's hacking abilities were another new development. Andy had originally installed code-breaking soft-ware to allow the Turk to play against interlinked computers. The Turk had discovered the programs could also be used to acquire other information it desired.

Without hesitation, Cameron typed, "Show me all available records on U.S. Navy SEAL Derek Thomas Reese."


End file.
